The Fool rose quietly from the table and went to his bedchamber. When he returned, he had a small pot of cosmetic. He set it on the table near Chade’s elbow. When the old assassin glanced curiously at it, he spoke quietly. “This is most efficacious for the skin peeling. There is a bit of color in it to lighten the skin, as well. If the color is too much, let me know. I can change it.” I noticed that he did not ask Chade what had happened to him, nor did Chade volunteer anything. The Fool added cautiously, “If you wish, I can show you how to apply it. We might be able to restore some of your eyebrows as well.”

“Please,” Chade said after a moment. And so a place was cleared at the corner of the breakfast table, and the Fool brought out his paints and powders and went to work. It was, in a way, fascinating to watch him at his task. Chade appeared uncomfortable at first, but soon became involved in the task, studying himself in a looking glass as the Fool restored his appearance. When the Fool was finished, Chade nodded, well pleased, and observed, “Would that I had had paint and artifice of this quality when I was playing Lady Thyme. I would not have had to wear so many veils, nor smell so foul to make folk keep their distance.”

The memories that aroused made me grin. At the same time, I knew a moment’s unease. It was unlike Chade to speak so carelessly his secrets, no matter how old they were. Did he assume I had told the Fool all there was to know of us? Or did he trust the man that completely? He raised a hand to pat his cheek, but the Fool made a cautioning gesture. “Touch your face as little as possible. Take these pots with you, and make an excuse to be alone with a looking glass after meals. That will be when you will most likely need to make repairs to it. And if you need my aid, simply send me a note inviting me to visit you. I’ll come to your chambers.”

“Tell your page you have a question on how the game of Laudwine is played,” I interjected. Without looking at the Fool directly, I explained, “That was my pretext for visiting Chade’s chambers this morning. That you had invited him here for breakfast and to show him a new wagering game.”

“An invitation I declined, due to poor health,” Chade added. The Fool nodded gravely. “And now, I must go. Carry on as you have been, Fitz. Have Lord Golden pass me a message with the word ‘horse’ in it if you wish me to meet with you. If you can find out from Thick where Laudwine is staying, let me know quickly. I’ll send a man round to snuff about.”

“I think I could do that myself,” I said quietly.

“No, Fitz. He knows your face. He may know from Thick that you are mine. Better you stay well away from him.” He lifted his napkin to wipe his mouth. At a warning look from the Fool, he just patted his lips instead. He rose to leave, and then suddenly turned back to me. “The figurine from the Others’ beach, Fitz. You said the Prince believes it to be the Narcheska? Do you think such a thing is possible?”

I opened my hands and shrugged. “That beach seemed a very odd place to me. When I think back on all that happened there, my memories seem vague and fogged.”

“That could have been from passing through the Skill pillars, you said.”

I took a breath. “Perhaps. And yet, I think there is more to it. Perhaps the Others or some other being maintain a bewitchment on that place. When I look back, Chade, my decisions make no sense to me. Why didn’t I attempt to follow the path toward the forest? I remember looking at it and thinking that someone must have made it. Yet I had no inclination to even go look at it. No, it was even stronger than that. The woods seemed threatening to me, as no forest has ever seemed unwelcoming before.” I shook my head. “I think that place has its own magic, neither Wit nor Skill. And it is one I would not willingly experience again. The Skill seemed exceptionally enticing there as well. And . . .” I let the thought trail away. I was still not ready to speak of whatever-it-was that had plucked both Dutiful and myself from the Skill current and reassembled us. The experience was both too large and too personal.

“A magic that could present the Prince with a figurine of his bride-to-be, not as she is but as she will be?”

I shrugged. “Once Dutiful said it, it did seem right to me. I know I’ve seen the Narcheska wear a blue ornament like the one the figurine has. But I’ve never seen her dressed that way, nor has she breasts yet.”

“I seem to recall reading that there is some Outislander ceremony, where a girl presents herself thus to demand recognition of her womanhood.”

It sounded barbaric to me. I said so, and then added, “There is a resemblance to the Narcheska, but perhaps it is merely the resemblance that all Outislander women have to one another. I don’t think we should give it much consideration right now.”